


Angel Cuddles

by noiproksa



Series: Angels [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friendship Canon Compliant, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Self-Made Family, Team Free Will, Touch-Starved Castiel, Touching, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 17:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noiproksa/pseuds/noiproksa
Summary: Angels need a lot of physical contact, especially when in a human vessel.—Dean is determined to give Cas the ‘physical contact’ he requires. Cas is more than suspicious when suddenly, Dean starts touching him more and more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to “Four’s a Crowd,” but can be read separately. All you need to know is that an angel told Dean that angels require a lot of physical contact.
> 
> I wrote this for the SPN Canon Mini Bang and I had a lot of fun with it. Thanks to my lovely artist love-nakamura. You can find the art masterpost [here](https://love-nakamura.tumblr.com/post/186517367984/cannon-mini-bang-with-my-lovely-partner-noiprosca).

“I believe Dean is under the influence of some spell,” Castiel said as he joined Sam, who was sitting in the library, typing on his laptop.

Sam stopped typing immediately and looked up at him, brows furrowed. “How come?”

“He always… He doesn’t stop…” Castiel didn’t quite know how to finish that sentence. When Sam raised his eyebrows inquisitively, he settled on, “He won’t stop touching me.”

Sam didn’t seem to take Castiel’s suspicions seriously, as he huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“He touches you all the time,” he said and turned his attention back to his laptop.

“That is not true,” Castiel objected vehemently. “He touches me approximately 3.7 times a day. He has touched me _fourteen_ times today so far.”

“Uhm…” Sam said as he looked up again.

Castiel realized too late that humans probably did not do calculations in their head about how often they had been touched by another human on any given day.

Then again, they didn’t require touches the way angels did. Apart from the fact that angels were a very tactile species, it was hard enough to walk around inside a human vessel. Touch was able to anchor them in a way, build a bridge between their true form and the vessel they were confined in.

He remembered a time when he had had to sneak a touch from Dean. Nowadays, Dean voluntarily touched him on average 3.7 times a day, which meant Castiel did not have to worry about being touched enough. But fourteen times—and the day wasn’t even over—that only led to one possible conclusion: magic had to be involved.

“Look, I’m sure he’s fine,” Sam said as he closed his laptop and got up, tucking the laptop under his arm as he took a few steps away from Castiel. “I’m… uhm… gonna…” He motioned towards the door and then quickly walked out of the room without a backward glance.

Castiel stared after him. Now on top of everything else, he had made Sam uncomfortable. After all these years on Earth—sometimes, he felt like the Winchesters still thought of him as the ‘weird one.’

***

“Talk to your angel,” Sam said without preamble as he waltzed into his room without even knocking.

“Whu?” Dean managed to get out around a bite of his sandwich.

“He’s onto you,” Sam said, glaring at Dean who was lying on his bed, the Bible open next to him, now with a grease stain on the current page. (Unfortunately, as it turned out, it did not say anything about how much physical contact angels required while in a human vessel. It had been a long shot anyway, since Cas had told them himself that the Bible got more wrong than right.)

“You know I love you,” Sam started, which couldn’t end well. “But you’re not the most… cuddly person. You’re freaking him out with all the touches, and now he thinks you’re under a spell or something.”

“‘Cuddly’?” Dean repeated, dumbfounded, and sat up in his bed. So he wasn’t big on being touched—so what? No reason for Sam to call him out for not initiating contact all the damn time like some touch-starved lunatic. “I’m not even doing much of anything!”

“Dean—you basically held his hand during breakfast.”

“I did not!” Dean objected. When Sam rolled his eyes, clearly disbelieving, he repeated, “I _didn’t_. I passed him the butter.”

“He wasn’t asking for the butter.—He wasn’t even _eating_ anything!”

Granted, Dean’s thoughts kept circling back to what Jem had revealed about angels: _Angels need a lot of physical contact, especially when in a human vessel_. So maybe he had tried to give Cas what he needed, but apparently wasn’t feeling comfortable enough to ask for. Sue him for trying to be a good friend.

“He’s the only angel currently living here, which means he can’t get his ‘physical contact’ fix from other angels, so… we’ve gotta man up here,” Dean explained.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, assuming his ‘stubborn moose’ pose. “You know how Cas gets when he thinks you’re in danger. Do you really want to leave him worrying?” He didn’t wait for Dean to react to that, but instead went on, “Either tell him, or hold off on the hand holding. But don’t let me be stuck in the middle.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “And it wasn’t ‘hand holding,’” he called after Sam when he was already halfway out the door.

***

Castiel was still sitting in the library, trying to think of a way to lift the curse Dean was clearly under when the object of his thoughts came strolling into the room.

“So, Cas…” Dean said, clapping him on the shoulder by way of greeting. Yes, he was most definitely still under the curse, Castiel surmised, when the hand lingered there for just a little too long, raising the number of touches to fifteen today.

“Angels, huh?” Dean continued as he finally let go and flopped down on a chair next to him.

Not following what Dean wanted to talk about, Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. “What about my species?” he asked.

“Nothin’,” Dean said, shrugging one shoulder. “Just… you know. You never really told us how this whole… vessel thing works. Aside from the permission to enter. I mean, what’s it feel like in a human vessel?”

Still unsure as to where this conversation was going, Castiel said, “Strange. But you get used to it.”

Apparently, that hadn’t been the answer Dean had been hoping for. He pinched the bridge of his nose before looking at Castiel and trying again, “What about any… needs to… maintain the vessel?”

Castiel furrowed his brows. This conversation was very confusing. Dean knew these things. So why was he asking? Nevertheless, Castiel did not want to appear rude, so he answered, “We can maintain the vessel with our grace.”

The answer still seemed unsatisfactory to Dean, who sighed and then abruptly pushed back his chair and got up.

“Good talk,” he said and the curse made him pat Castiel’s shoulder yet again ( _sixteen_ ) before he took a few steps away. When he reached the doorway, he hesitated and turned back to Castiel and pointed at him.

“If Sam asks—we talked.” With that strange statement, he left the room.

Castiel didn’t reply—he merely wondered why Dean had felt the need to say that. There was no reason for Castiel to lie to Sam and claim Dean and him hadn’t talked. Then again, there was no reason for Sam to ask if they had talked—after all, they were talking all the time. What a strange thing to say. Maybe the curse had something to do with it. Castiel had better go back to thinking about possible anti-curses.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Dean felt good about himself. Lately, Cas had seemed exhausted, big rings under his eyes which shouldn’t be possible for angels, probably due to all the stress. But today—after just one day of pats on the backs and manly shoulder squeezes (and no hand holding, no matter what Sammy said)—Cas was already looking better than he had in a while.

Plus, Sam had backed off because Dean had successfully addressed any issues there might have been head-on, talking it out with Cas responsibly. So all in all, Dean was in a great mood—which lasted right up until lunchtime when he was just about to take the first bite of his well-deserved burger and Cas came in, walking right up to him and blowing some weird powder in his face.

“What the hell?” Dean complained as he coughed and tried to chase away the dust with his hand.

Cas was mumbling something in Enochian and the next moment, Dean felt a pull in the pit of his stomach. Sam, who had just been in the middle of buttering a slice of bread, was sitting next to him, completely useless, mouth agape as Dean was friggin’ assaulted by _Cas_. Seriously. _What the hell?!_

“How do you feel?” Cas asked as if it hadn’t been _him_ who had just—

“Did you just _curse_ me?” Dean said once he had stopped coughing.

“I just _lifted_ a curse,” Cas corrected him and grinned at Dean brightly, then at Sam, as if waiting for praise.

Sam glared at Dean. “You didn’t talk to him, did you?”

“We talked,” Cas immediately said and for a second, Dean was relieved that Cas was covering for him. But then he had to go on, “I am still a bit unsure about _what_ …”

Banging his head against the table seemed like a good idea right about now. Cas was seriously the worst co-conspirator ever.

Sam shook his head disapprovingly. “I don’t want to say ‘I told you so,’ but… actually, I do. _I told you so_.”

Dean hit Sam’s arm with the back of his hand in retaliation, but all he got for his efforts was an electric shock.

“Ouch!” he yelled. Sam was glaring at him, rubbing his arm.

“Well, thanks for nothing,” Dean said, turning back around to Cas. “Next time, make sure I’m actually cursed before you try to un-curse me. Got it?”

And then, mainly to piss Sam off, he took the butter and held it out to Cas, who tilted his head to the side and eyed it suspiciously before taking it.

When their hands brushed against each other, Dean flinched back as he was zapped again.

“Son of a bitch! Is everyone in here electrically charged today?” Dean asked, frustrated as he shook out his hand to get rid of the remaining tingly feeling.

Sam shot him a strange look and it took Dean a moment to catch on.

“Oh, hell to the no!” He shot a dark look at Cas. “What was that curse?”

Eying him warily, Cas put the butter back onto the table. “I told you. It wasn’t a curse. It was a spell to _counteract_ a curse.”

“What if the person wasn’t under a curse to begin with?” Sam asked.

Silence. Dean didn’t like Cas’ deer in the headlights expression one bit.

“Oh goody,” Dean finally said when Cas didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “With friends like these… you don’t have to wait around for your enemies to curse you.”

Sam curiously poked him with a finger and immediately, the electric shock went through him again.

“Cut it out!” Dean grumbled. At least, Sam had flinched back, too, which meant he probably wouldn’t take advantage of Dean’s predicament too much.

Turning to Cas, he raised his eyebrows. “Any counter-curse for that counter-curse?”

***

Castiel still couldn’t believe that it hadn’t been a curse that had made Dean touch him more often against his will. Now he had made things worse and Dean was mad at him when all Castiel had wanted to do was give him his free will back.

As the Winchester brothers helped him research ways to counteract an anti-curse, Castiel kept glancing at Dean surreptitiously. He wondered how long Dean would give him the silent treatment.

When Castiel glanced in his direction yet again, Dean said tonelessly, “I’m not mad at you.”

He didn’t even glance up from his cell phone as he was texting other hunters to ask if they knew anything about anti-anti-curses. (Fortunately, he could still touch inanimate objects, at least.)

“I still do not understand why your touches increased by over 432 percent,” Castiel stated. If it hadn’t been a curse… nothing else made sense.

Instead of providing an answer, Dean simply cleared his throat, mumbled something along the lines of “Yeah, well…” and turned his attention back to his cell phone—which wasn’t an answer at all.

“Jeremiel said something about angels requiring a lot of touch,” Sam explained, which made Dean stop short and shoot Sam a dark look.

“Oh… I see,” Castiel said. That was exactly why he had never mentioned anything—he didn’t want Sam or Dean to feel _obligated_ to touch him. That was worse than not being touched at all.

“Okay, could we maybe go back to figuring this thing out?” Dean asked, exasperated. “Still cursed, here.”

“Anti-cursed,” Castiel corrected.

He hoped that Dean knew he would never intentionally curse him.

***

How was this Sam’s life? Once more was he stuck taking care of a situation Dean had brought upon himself. If only he would _talk_ about what was going on once in a while. But no—he would rather get cursed, apparently, which meant that Sam had to sacrifice his free time to try and figure this out. He had really been looking forward to a few days off since there was no big bad to battle at the moment, which didn’t happen often.

“Ouch!” Dean’s yell brought him out of his brooding thoughts.

Sam looked up and raised his eyebrows at his brother. What had he done now? Dean was staring at his own hands with wide eyes. “I can’t even friggin’ touch my _own_ hand?”

Sam tried to stifle a laugh—Dean _had_ had it coming, after all—and managed to just snort instead. Maybe that would teach Dean to listen to him instead of ignoring arising problems just because he had a phobia about talking about his feelings.

Apparently, Sam hadn’t done a great job concealing his amusement because Dean glared at him and then slapped his arm, zapping them both.

“Jerk,” Sam said since he had definitely done that on purpose, hazarding getting shocked himself just so he could zap Sam.

Dean’s responding “bitch” was cut short by the buzzing of Dean’s cell phone. He furrowed his brows as he read the text massage and then a grin spread across his face. “Hey. Seems like I wasn’t the only one this has happened to.”

“What?” Sam asked, letting sarcasm bleed through because no way was he going to let Dean off the hook for this any time soon. “Another angel tried to lift a curse off a hunter even though he wasn’t really under a curse because he was suddenly more tactile?”

“Bite me,” Dean said, but it was probably more reflex than anything, since his attention was already back on his cell phone, reading through the rest of the message. “Huh—that makes sense. Seems like you gotta curse me with the spell Cas thought I was under to balance out the magic.”

They both looked over at Cas.

“Ozodien Amma. A spell that gives you no choice but to seek out physical comfort,” Cas explained.

Sam shook his head. Typical Dean. Withholding ‘comfort’ up to the point where Cas thought that he was under a spell when he offered some voluntarily.

He tried to make Dean aware of that fact by shooting him a meaningful look, but as so often, Dean was too oblivious to understand what he was getting at, only looking back with a puzzled expression on his face.

***

Why was Sam making a bitchface at him? They knew what to do now, he should be happy. Dean broke eye contact with him in order to ask Cas what they would need for the curse.

Unfortunately, in order to work, the spell had to be performed on a new moon, which was almost two weeks away. Just their luck!

“So what, I can’t wash my hands for the next twelve days?” Dean asked, glaring at Cas. He hadn’t lied—he wasn’t really _mad_ at him per se, but it kind of _was_ the angel’s fault that he got electrocuted whenever he touched someone—himself included.

“Well, you _can_ ,” Sam amended, a grin tugging at his lips. “You just won’t like it.”

That marked the end of their research. All that was left to do after preparing the ingredients for the spell was wait for new moon to arrive.

Since Dean wouldn’t be able to offer Cas the physical contact angels required for the next few days, he made sure to catch Sam alone to order him to step up his game and be a good angel friend.

Rolling his eyes, Sam said, “You know, there have been times before when you weren’t exactly around and somehow, Cas survived.”

But there was a difference between ‘surviving’ and feeling comfortable inside one’s vessel, and when Dean told Sam so, his brother reassured him that he would not let Cas get touch starved during the time Dean was out for the count.

As Dean was taking a shower that evening, he pondered the fact that he had never really appreciated the ability to wash his hair without getting zapped before.

One day down, eleven to go.

***

Going from sixteen touches to zero from one day to the next was not an easy feat for Castiel. He quickly realized that Sam was touching him more than usual, though, and when he tilted his head at Sam after he had patted him on the back awkwardly, Sam explained that he had promised Dean to “look out for him.”

“That is very kind of you, Sam,” Castiel said, “but unnecessary. Just because angels enjoy physical contact doesn’t mean we can’t go without it.”

“Yeah, well, still. Dean will kick my ass if I don’t keep my promise, so…” And he followed that up with another pat on the back.

Of course, Dean wasn’t able to stay put for twelve whole days. He hardly managed three before he was getting restless and searching for a hunt they could go on.

Sam pointed out that it wasn’t a good idea to go on a hunt when Dean was still cursed, but Dean could be very stubborn and so they were battling a nest of vampires outside a small town in Colorado on the third night of the curse.

While Castiel was smiting two vampires at once, he glanced over at Dean, who beheaded one with his blade. Another vampire had crept up behind him and wanted to bite him, but the moment he laid a hand on Dean, they were both brought to their knees, jerking and twitching.

Castiel quickly hurried over to smite this vampire, too.

“Worst superpower ever!” Dean managed to get out as he was stumbling to his feet.

Sam had gotten the last one and went over to them.

“Everything okay?” he asked, breathing heavily from the fight.

“I still can’t believe you _cursed_ me!” Dean grumbled, ignoring Sam. “And is it just me or is this curse getting _worse_?”

“You are bleeding,” Castiel realized and motioned towards Dean’s forehead.

Dean wiped his hand across his forehead and hissed when he found the gash.

Instinctively, Castiel reached out for him in order to heal him and felt an electrical current rush through his vessel and push his grace away as soon as he touched Dean’s arm. Castiel immediately took a step back when Dean stumbled and hissed, “Ouch!”

He was an angel. His touch should be healing, not hurtful (as long as you weren’t a demon, that is). At least the gash had vanished.

“Dean…” Sam began, concerned, but Dean interrupted him.

“Let’s just go home.—Nine more days,” he mumbled, more to himself, and Castiel wanted nothing more than to comfort him. Only he didn’t know how since he wasn’t allowed to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had been in a foul mood the whole drive back. He had thought a hunt would cheer them up, but in the end, after the whole healing fiasco, Cas had seemed more bummed out than before.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even reassure Cas without hurting both of them. At least he couldn’t by patting his back or squeezing his shoulder—the Dean Winchester way of expressing what was important. He really didn't do pep talks all that well, much less ones that involved talking about feelings.

Still—lack of communication had gotten them into this predicament in the first place, which was why he knocked on Cas’ door in the middle of the night. The angel didn’t sleep anyway, so it wasn’t like he’d disturb him.

“Dean!” Cas said, as always glad to see him. He put the magazine he had been flipping through away.

Dean smiled tiredly. “Hey. You got a minute?”

In answer, Cas motioned for Dean to take a seat on the chair next to the bed Cas was sitting on.

Now that he was here, Dean really didn’t know what to say. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” That was always a good place to start.

“I am not the one cursed.”

“Anti-cursed,” Dean corrected, his lips twitching. Unfortunately, the joke didn’t seem to cheer Cas up.

“I am sorry I caused all this trouble,” he said, dejected.

“Don’t worry about it. Only nine more days.” That was Dean’s mantra and he couldn’t wait for it to be over so that he could scratch himself without getting an electric shock. Earlier, he had almost knocked himself out because his nose had been itchy.

They lapsed into silence. Finally, Cas asked, “Should we tell Sam that we talked if he asks?”

“Nah, that’s okay,” Dean waved the question off and got up, not quite happy with the outcome of the conversation. “You sure you’re alright?”

Cas sighed and got up as well, standing in touching distance—which might as well have been ten yards away. “Yes, Dean.—I do not need human touches to sustain my vessel.”

“That’s not what Jem said.” Dean was looking Cas straight in the eyes, daring him to contradict him.

Which Cas promptly did. “Well, Jeremiel had been lying to us the whole time.”

“You sayin’ that he was lying about that, too?”

Cas’ eyes flitted away from Dean’s, and Dean nodded. “Thought so.”

He wet his lips. “Just… You gotta ask for stuff if you need things. There’s still a lot Sam and I don’t know about angels. If you don’t tell us—how’re we supposed to know we’re doing things wrong?”

“I didn’t… you don’t… do anything _wrong_ ,” Cas hurried to reassure him.

“Well… good. Just—ask Sammy for a hug or something if you need one.” He was only half joking—teasing Cas was always fun—but at the same time, he hoped that Cas _would_ ask if there was anything he needed. Though he suspected that he wouldn’t.

Stifling a yawn, he thought that was his cue to try to get some shut-eye after all.

“Night, Cas,” he said, his eyes drooping, instinctively reaching out to touch Cas’ arm as always when he said goodbye to Cas for the night.

He had barely grazed Cas’ arm, but the next moment, the shock running from his hand through the rest of his body made his eyes snap wide awake again. He heard a groan of pain, but he didn’t know if it was his own or Cas’.

“Sorry, sorry… That wasn’t on purpose,” Dean quickly apologized.

“We were just talking about it,” Cas deadpanned. “How could you have forgotten?”

“I didn’t _forget_.” Dean rubbed a hand across his face and promptly got zapped again. “Son of a bitch!” Forcing his hands down to his sides, he continued, “I’m just tired. Last night I woke up about a bazillion times every time the stupid curse zapped me.”

“I could put you to sleep,” Cas offered.

It sounded tempting. Although, for that to work, he’d have to touch Dean, zapping them both. With the curse getting stronger, Cas might knock himself out in the process, too.

When Dean didn’t immediately answer, Cas explained, “I do not like to see you in pain when I can’t help. When healing you causes even more pain.”

Dean smirked tiredly. “Isn’t fun, is it?”

Cas frowned. “I just said I don’t like it.”

“No, I know. I mean, _I_ can _never_ heal you when you’re in pain. So… welcome to my world, I guess.”

They didn’t say anything for a moment and Dean barely held back from rubbing his tired eyes in time. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t go nine more days without sleep.

“You know what? I’m in,” he decided. “Do your thing. Knock me out.”

Cas took a step towards him and before Dean could remind him that he would have to lie down first, Cas had already touched two fingers to his forehead. Dean barely felt the zap—stronger than ever— start to course through his body before he saw and felt nothing at all anymore. He didn’t even feel his body hit the floor.

***

Sam had gotten up early and gone to the library to do some more research. If he had to endure Dean’s foul mood due to lack of sleep (and probably due to too little angel contact) for much longer, he might commit fratricide.

There had to be some sort of shortcut that would allow them to lift this curse before the next new moon.

Rowena had given him some pointers as to how some magic spells were dependent on moon phases, but she hadn’t felt inclined to come and help since she had “better things to do than make sure your touch-starved brother gets his angel cuddles.”

Apparently, if it wasn’t life or death, it was beneath her dignity to use her magic for such trivial matters.

It took him the better part of the morning, but with the help of three different books on moon phase spells, he finally figured out a way to speed things up.

In his haste to get up and tell Dean the good news, he almost knocked over his chair. If they were lucky, they could have the anti-curse lifted by tonight. Dean could call him ‘geek’ all he wanted, but his research had saved the day once more. His brother totally owed him.

After having checked the control room, the kitchen, and Dean’s room without any luck, Sam made his way to Cas’ room. He knocked and when no one answered, pushed the door open to peek inside.

When he saw Dean and Cas lying on the floor fast asleep, he did a double take. Cas’ hand was on Dean’s back, softly glowing, and Dean’s face was smushed against Cas’ chest, basically using him as a pillow as he lay half on top of the angel, snoring faintly.

For a second, Sam wondered if they had found a way to lift the curse themselves since they were obviously able to touch each other without getting zapped—but then his eyes landed on Cas’ glowing hand again and he realized that the angel was unconsciously letting healing energy continuously flow between their bodies while asleep.

Sam smiled to himself. Rowena had been spot on. _Angel cuddles_ , indeed. This opportunity was too good to pass up on, so he took out his cell phone to take a picture. This was some grade A blackmail material right there.

Of course, when he thought about how they had to have ended up in this position in the first place, he shook his head. _Idiots._ But that was okay. They were _his_ idiots, after all.

Dean sighed softly in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Cas.

Grinning, Sam took another picture, making sure to capture them cuddling the bejesus out of each other.

***

Some sort of clicking noise woke Castiel up. The first thing he noticed was that something was draining his grace. The next thing he noticed was that it was himself. Never before had he used his grace while asleep. (Mostly because he had only ever been asleep when he had been very low on grace to begin with, so he had no way of knowing if it was normal for angels to use their grace while asleep.)

He had also never before been so comfortable when he had been sleeping, which was strange since apparently, he was lying on the floor.

The moment he stopped his grace from flowing through his vessel’s hand, he was jolted by an electric shock and the next second, his warm blanket that was the reason he was so comfortable jumped up and yelled, “Son of a bitch!”

The electric shock had brought Castiel out of the haze between sleep and wakefulness, and he got to his feet as well.

Sam was grinning at them brightly, putting his cell phone back into his pocket.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, a confused frown on his face. He raised his hands as if to rub sleep out of his eyes, but apparently thought better of it and lowered his arms again and blinked a few times instead.

“Had a nice nap?” Sam asked and for some reason, there was a teasing quality to his voice.

“Don’t even…” Dean began just as Castiel replied, “Yes,” but Sam didn’t pay either of them any mind.

“So, while you two have been cuddling it up…” He ignored Dean’s spluttering at that and went right on, “…I found a solution to our curse problem. We just need to mix the ingredients a bit differently to make the curse stronger and we should be good to go even if it’s not a new moon.”

“Great! What are we waiting for?” Dean asked gruffly and walked right out of Castiel’s room.

“Anytime! You’re welcome!” Sam called after his brother and Castiel was proud that he understood that tone of voice.

“I am sure he appreciates your help,” he reassured Sam as he walked past him to follow Dean.

***

It took them a few hours to tweak the spell (or in Dean’s case to stand by and watch Sam and Cas tweak the spell), but finally, it was finished. They were all standing in the kitchen, looking at the bowl they had used to mix the ingredients.

Dean wanted to jab Sam in the ribs one last time to wipe that smirk off his face he’d had ever since he had walked in on them sleeping on the floor. But with the spell’s powers increasing, he didn’t feel like risking knocking them out, so he held back—just barely.

Cas mumbled some words in Enochian, sprinkled the mixture of disgusting ingredients at his face, and then Dean _did_ jab Sam in the ribs… and nothing happened apart from Sam yelling, “Hey!” and batting his hand away.

Just to be sure, Dean carefully touched the back of his own left hand with his right one and—again no electric shock!

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Dean said, grinning widely as he rubbed his hands together, taking delight in the fact that he could do so without any repercussion.

“So, _now_ , maybe I can enjoy a bit of downtime without you guys deciding to curse each other,” Sam said and walked away.

“Hey, Samsquatch,” Dean yelled after him.

Sam turned around in the doorway and raised his eyebrows.

Dean nodded at him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sam waved him off and continued on his way.

Dean turned around to Cas and sized him up. “Just to make sure you know what’s going on: I’m not under any curse right now,” he declared before pulling Cas into his arms, patting him on the back a few times, just because.

“I feel I have to clarify,” Cas began once Dean had let go of him again. He avoided eye contact, speaking to the floor. “I do not wish for you to feel obligated to do this.” He waved a hand back and forth between them.

Dean was in too good a mood to pass up on teasing Cas a bit. “What? Standing around and talking?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

That finally got Cas to look him in the eyes again, although it was more of a glare, so Dean sobered up and said, “So what? Angels like being touched. Newsflash—so do humans. ’s not like it’s a hardship or anything.”

“3.7 times a day is sufficient.”

“Point seven, huh?” Dean asked, his mirth returning full force. Being cursed was like being sick—you only realized how lucky you had been the whole time when you got sick. “How do I touch you point seven times?—Is this a point seven touch?” He lightly brushed Cas’ arm, ignoring the fact that not getting zapped because of it still felt almost strange.

“On average,” Cas corrected, but it didn’t escape Dean’s notice that, although he tried to sound irritated, a small smile was tugging at his lips.

“Uh-huh. Maybe this is a point seven touch,” Dean continued as he poked Cas with his index finger.

Cas tried to scowl, but he wasn’t fooling anyone at this point. That was Dean’s cue to launch a tickle attack.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked between huffs of laughter, trying to escape, but Dean followed him relentlessly.

Cas’ laughter was far too rare a sound. Dean decided he wanted to hear a lot more of it.

Stuff it, Jem. Cas was in good hands. He didn’t need any angel pals—he got all the physical contact he needed from them.—And they from him in return.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m currently working on another Team Free Will case fic, so I hope there’ll be something new to post, soon.  
> In the meantime, as always: comments and kudos are love and make my day. <3


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